My Boy Builds Coffins
by SabrinaScissorhands
Summary: Spain/Fem!Romano. Antonio never wanted this, but before he knew it, it was all he was.


I couldn't say that I had ever seen Antonio really frown before he was damned to the same fate as his father. The disease had been ever growing, but it was supposed to hold off until he could pay his son through school so that he could do something _decent_ with his life.

But his father had been taken all too soon, and within days, the happy, exuberant Antonio was locked in a tiny, one-room building with nothing but wood, hammers, nails, and a confined, enthusiastic personality. That character had nowhere to turn but to the work he so detested.

And so he worked. He worked and he worked. Before he knew it, he was nowhere but that little shop. Slowly, I began to hole myself in there with him. I could not stand to see him the few times he managed to break away, for he was always tired and faded. No, I began to only see his fire when he worked.

His fingers became worn along with his hands and energy.

He would build coffins all day and all night. He had use for nothing else. The death of his father had stripped him of everything, and before I knew it, even I meant little to him. At least, little in the way I once meant...

The worth I did have now came through my voice. I would sit on a work bench, my legs swinging mindlessly back and forth and my fingers tracing patterns in the sawdust, and I would sing. I sang hymns; I sang nursery rhymes; I sang in Italian; I sang in Spanish. Whatever worked is what I would sing. I liked to think that this part of me he still remembered and treasured, even if the coffins had taken everything else from him.

x

I entered the shop one rainy morning expecting the usual scene of him working madly over a plank of wood, his hands sawing angrily or his fingers racing back and forth between carving utensils.

But today he was moving calmly. Antonio slowly traced his fingertips down a finely-sanded plank of wood. When he reached the end, he gently eased a nail into place before tapping it lightly with his smallest hammer. After it had been pounded in, he examined it carefully before deciding it was perfect. He then repeated this process on the other side.

I watched in awe. He was never this careful. He loved what he did now, but this precision was simply never produced. Even as Antonio had crafted the queen's coffin, this carefulness had been lacking.

"Antonio." His name left my lips in a hushed whisper. My voice very nearly cracked.

His green eyes rose to meet mine. Immediately I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He had been up all night again. Antonio seemed to be doing this more and more often.

I slowly made my way over to him. "Idiot, you can't stay up all night doing this… It's not healthy." I traced my fingers over his chest, leaning into him slightly. A pang of loss shot through me; I hadn't been this close to Antonio in a long while. I never felt welcome anymore.

He didn't make a move to push me away. Though he also didn't move to pull me closer. So I just stood, breathing in his smell, taking in his presence. So long ago _I_ had always pushed _him_ away… I could not imagine why now. I missed the days he would move to touch me, try to get me to kiss him. I always _pushed him away_. _Why_?

"You don't… understand, Luciana."

"Oh don't I?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. But I will tell you." Antonio drew back from my touch, though he stroked my hair for just a moment. And for just a moment, I thought I saw some of the old, playful idiot Antonio. But just for a moment. "This, _amor_, is to be your coffin."

I felt my heart skip a beat, my breath catch in my throat. "E-excuse me?" I choked out. "Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

"I am dying, Luciana," Antonio answered simply. "I had to make yours before I die… I have already finished my own." He then gestured towards a significantly plain, dark-wooded coffin in the back corner, propped up near the curtained, boarded window.

"Antonio, don't be stupid," I hissed. "You're not—"

"I have the same ailment as my father. I don't have long now." He hesitated before speaking again, "But don't worry. I'm spending all my time on yours, _mi amor_." Antonio traced his thin fingers down my cheek almost forlornly. "It will be done."

"Antonio, you _idiot_, shouldn't you stop working or something? I mean… try to get better?" I whispered, putting my hand over his.

He shook his head. "Nothing can be done now. And besides: this must be finished."

I stared in his eyes for a drawn-out moment. But too quickly he blinked a few times and broke away, instantaneously returning to work. I stumbled backwards, mouth slightly agape. "Antonio…" I breathed. It was all I could get out.

Hours and hours later and he was still working. He had just barely put together the four sides of it. So much time was put into making sure they were aligned and carved correctly. But it took so long more because of how slow he had begun to move. Antonio's every movements were laboured and weighted. He began to cough heavily. His fingers began to shake violently.

I got up from my seat on the bench to move to his side. "Antonio?" I whispered, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Are you alright?"

His hands dropped to his sides, the small chisel clattering to the ground. Empty, green eyes looked down at me. I swallowed hard and repeated my question.

Suddenly, he fell limp. I cried out, cursing loudly as he hit the ground. His eyes remained open, though, and he stared up at me. His lips parted, as if to speak.

"Yes? What is it? Speak, dammit!" I cried weakly. "Say something…"

"L-Luciana…"

"What? Yes?"

"G-get me-e… my c-coffin… Put me in it-t."

I felt my breathing get heavy, my knees get wobbly. I tried for a second to deny it in my mind. I tried to find the words to tell him he was being stupid, that he would not need that. But… Deep inside… I knew he did. I knew what was happening.

"Y-yes, Antonio…" I gasped, "God…"

Glancing upwards, I saw his plain coffin across the room. I didn't want to take my hands off of him, though… I took a shaky breath, running my hand through his hair, down his face…

"Just a moment, _amore_."

I pulled myself to my feet, just barely. I wondered if I could hold everything together…

Just as that crossed my mind, though, my fingers hit the wood of his coffin. Everything in me stopped. A cry of distress fell from my lips. Denials and curses and cries rang out as I pulled it down. My trembling fingers pried off the lid.

Before I knew it, my tears were falling onto Antonio's face, and there were wooden walls around him. I was leaning over the side, grasping his hands tightly, sobs wracking my body. I had never imagined that I—of all people—had so many tears to shed. But as his emerald eyes fell shut, I had nothing else to do.

I screamed his name. I cried out to whatever god would listen. I sang out whatever line would come to me.

_Please stay… dear god, please stay_…

But after a moment, my cries faded out. I could hear his breath slowing, feel his heart faltering.

"_Ti amo_," I whimpered desperately.

Antonio just gave me a sad, sad smile before his eyes began to slowly fall shut. "I'm sorry that I could not finish your coffin, _amor_."

"Who gives a damn? Who cares? You're so _stupid_ worrying about that…" I shook my head, forcing a small smile through the tears, "God, Antonio, god… No…"

"Sorry… Luciana." His lips fell shut with his eyes, and his grip on my hand slackened.

"No!" I screamed, throwing myself over the side of his coffin.

I lay over him, staring down at his beautiful face. I laced my fingers through his curls urgently as the tears began flowing steadily once more. Refusing to sob, I bit my lip. I bent my neck slightly, nuzzling my face against his neck. I whispered his name once more, one more desperate attempt.

I don't know how long I had lain there. But I had managed to squeeze in beside Antonio and wrap my arms around him. I could not let him go…

"Antonio," I breathed, "I'm glad you did not finish my coffin. I… could have no other one than this…" I took a deep breath before shutting my eyes.

It was then, as the darkness fell behind my eyelids, that I made up my mind to never open my eyes again.

* * *

><p><strong>Inspired by <strong>_**My Boy Builds Coffins**_** by Florence + the Machine**


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